


Boy In Love

by anomalously



Series: The Way It Is [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Boys In Love, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4376993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalously/pseuds/anomalously
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set a few weeks after BWAF/BITS</p><p>
  <i>It was a slip; it wasn't meant to be said out loud, it was a complete slip. They both stilled when it was said. Blue meeting blue-green, staring at each other for god knows how many minutes, just completely fucking still. Mickey went blank, his throat closed up so fucking tight that he was sure he’d suffocate. He felt like his heart was ready to burst out of his chest.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boy In Love

**Author's Note:**

> It's not a _lot_ lot of words, but it's important.

“I gotta go,” Ian breathed against Mickey’s mouth, not making any effort to pull away. 

They’d been at it for way too long, stretched out on Mickey’s couch, all tangled up and kissing slow. Mickey’s pinned between the back of the couch and the redhead, all snug, barely able to move much more than when he wants to arch into Ian, not being able to get quite enough contact. Even though there is literally only thin layers of material separating their bodies, it's not enough.

Ian’s got his hand grabbing at Mickey’s ass and Mickey’s got his hand firmly planted on the back of Ian’s head, fisting that red hair. And Ian works his lips so good that Mickey feels it everywhere. He feels like he’s being sweetly suffocated, like Ian’s trying to suck all of the fucking life out of him and he’s completely fucking _fine_ with it.

“Okay,” Mickey breathes back.

Ian was supposed to be meeting Mandy in fifteen minutes. But the redhead reaches down to pull Mickey’s leg up over his hip, rocking closer and harder against his body. His lips trail down Mickey’s neck. Mickey clenches his eyes shut, breathing in hard because the way Ian’s pressed against him, rocking and kissing and... fucking _Christ_ Mickey loves making out with Ian Gallagher.

“Fuck, she’s gonna fucking kill you,” Mickey groans.

“Probably,” Ian grins, pressing his lips against Mickey’s again, his hand gliding all over, squeezing and scratching. It’s perfect.

Mickey’s chest hurt. But in a good way, not in a _whoa let’s call a fucking doctor_ way. Being with Ian made his chest hurt. Made his whole body spin. Not just when they were fucking, not just when they were —let’s be honest here— dry-humping the fuck out of each other like a couple of idiots. Dry-humping. _Jesus_.

But his chest just hurt, ached, whatever… all for Ian. It had taken them so fucking long to get to this place. And Ian had been so goddamn patient, even when he didn't understand, even when Mickey saw it in his eyes that it looked like an impossible feat to claim Mickey Milkovich. And that’s what Ian had done. He’d claimed Mickey. Mickey was okay with that. He’d claimed Ian too. Ian was his, inside and out, all fucking his. He loved him.

Mickey held the side of Ian’s face, pressing their foreheads together, their hot breath colliding between them. Ian leaned forward again, ghosting his lips across Mickey’s slightly sore mouth. It was such a sweet soreness, from kissing his redhead so long. Mickey didn't mind. He’d go days like this if he had to, sore mouth, aching jaw, red lips. It was so fucking worth it. Ian was worth it. Ian was worth a fucking lot. Fuck, he really did love him, didn’t he?

“I love you.”

It was a slip; it wasn't meant to be said out loud, it was a complete slip. They both stilled when it was said. Blue meeting blue-green, staring at each other for god knows how many minutes, just completely fucking still. Mickey went blank, his throat closed up so fucking tight that he was sure he’d suffocate. He felt like his heart was ready to burst out of his chest.

Ian moved them, turning them and keeping his eyes locked on Mickey’s. Eventually, they ended up with Ian sitting on the couch, pulling Mickey into his lap, fronts pressed tightly against each other. Still, nothing was said. Mickey was hesitant, his mouth opening and closing, trying to figure out what to say. He felt Ian’s hands gripping his hips tightly.

“What’d you say?,” Ian whispered, his eyes were wide and searching, just barely holding onto his chill. Mickey could see it fraying at the edges, the redhead was about to fucking explode.

Mickey twitched the corner of his mouth upwards, wrapping his arms around Ian’s shoulders, he rocked his body against the redheads, kissing at the skin of his neck. This was happening. He'd already said it, it was out there now, “You heard me, asshole.”

Ian shuddered, wrapping his arms around Mickey tightly, “Say it again.”

“I love you,” Mickeypanted against Ian’s lips, pressing a hard kiss to them. 

It came so fucking _easy_. He was surprised how easy those words fell out of his mouth. But here… with Ian, in his apartment, locked away from the rest of the world, everything was so much simpler. Everything was just _MickeyIanMickeyIan_.

They kissed desperate, full of breath and teeth. Hands moved everywhere, Mickey wanted to touch _everywhere_ , wanted to feel _everything_. Ian Gallagher, his fucking redheaded problem. Getting him to talk about shit. Getting him to slip into this boyfriend role with no fucking problem or question. Getting him to love him. Fucker. 

If you’d asked Mickey a year ago if he thought he’d be in this position he was in right that second, he’d told you that you were out of your fucking mind. But Terry was gone for now. And Ian was his. And he was Ian’s. And Ian was safe and made Mickey smile.

“I love you too,” Ian said between their kisses. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

Mickey knew that Ian needed this moment of sticky-sweet. He needed to marinate in those words and kiss and touch and have this contact. And yeah, Mickey kind of needed it too, in a way. But he gave more to Ian, because that’s what his redhead needed. He’d give Ian anything. Maybe that made him a sap too.

 

* * *

He felt like he was high. Like really _really_ fucking high. Ian walked into the gym, made his way to the treadmills with a disgustingly goofy ass smile on his face, knowing how ridiculous he looked, but did not care. Because Mickey loved him, told him that he loved him… finally. And it was so good. It felt _so_ fucking good. 

Mandy was already there, obviously. He was ten minutes late. Whatever. She gave him this knowing grin when he settled up beside her on the next machine.

“Please don’t tell me you’re late because you were too busy fucking my brother.”

Ian laughed, changing the settings on his treadmill. 

“Ugh, that hurts!” Mandy reached over and pinched his arm.

“Couldn’t help it,” Ian shrugged. “How are things with Adam —you know Mickey hates him, right? Says he’s an asshole.”

Mandy rolled her eyes. “He met him _once_. Mickey hates Adam because he doesn't intimidate all that easy, so the tough-guy shit doesn't really work on him. And yeah, he can be an asshole sometimes, but what do you expect from a filthy-rich only child?”

“Sounds like a charmer,” Ian snorted with a grin.

“He’s good to me,” Mandy said. 

“Plus that good D, right?”

Mandy laughed, “Plus that good D. You hear back from that internship thing?”

Honestly, Ian wasn't trying to think about that too much. He'd applied for an internship at this publishing place a little over a week ago, and still hadn't heard anything. It was making him anxious.

"Not yet," he told Mandy.

"They'll call," she assured him. "They're fucking idiots if they don't."

Ian grinned. 

 

* * *

 

Since the art show at Zg Gallery, Mickey had been approached twice for commissions. This was both fucking amazing and scary as hell. People wanted to give him money for his work. Ayana Hayes, the woman who had recruited him for the show at Zg Gallery, had told him to expect this since his work was so well receptive. But still, it was just kind of weird. Okay really weird.

He was working on the second commission —a portrait— when Ian got back from working out with Mandy. The redhead didn't knock anymore, just walked in, dropped his gym bag by the kitchen and strode over, all sweaty and flushed.

“Ay, Richard Simmons, how was your workout?” Mickey grinned.

Ian narrowed his eyes through his own grin, wrapping his long sweaty arms around Mickey’s shoulders, “I dunno, you tell me.”

Mickey pulled a face, but didn't push him away. He didn’t really care all that much, “You need a shower.”

“Come take one with me,” Ian murmured against Mickey’s ear, pulling him away from his easel. He kissed and tongued at his skin, sending little shivers up Mickey’s spine.

“Yeah?” Mickey carefully reached over to set his paintbrush down as Ian pulled him closer, pressing their bodies together. Ian, for whatever reason, was always a horny motherfucker when he got back from working out.

“Yeah,” Ian breathed, grabbing at Mickey’s ass with both hands.

Mickey huffed a laugh, letting Ian pull him away from his easel, letting him manhandle him. Ian was lethal like this. Savage and full of teeth and lips, covering Mickey’s mouth with his own, pressing their bodies together, pushing Mickey against walls on their way to the bathroom. 

He didn't mind this manhandling. Mickey loved this manhandling. When Ian went from puppy to wolf and took over his whole fucking _being_. 

“Tell me again?” Ian asked when they finally got into the shower. Hot water beat down onto them. Ian had his hands running up and down Mickey’s body and Mickey was getting lost in his touches.

He knew what Ian wanted, but still he asked, “Tell you what?”

“You know,” Ian grinned. His face softening, a little unsure, a little nervous. A little like he was going to dissolve into the most spectacular display of no-chill that Mickey’d ever seen.

Mickey grinned, “We’re not gonna be that couple. Telling you that right now.”

“What couple?” 

“That _no, I love you more_ couple,” Mickey rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

Ian kissed him, holding his face, pressing his forehead against his, kissed him again. “Just one more time.”

Mickey took a deep breath, took Ian’s face in his hands and looked right in his eyes. “You fucking annoying ass ginger. I love you. Okay?”

“Yeah?” Ian gnawed at his bottom lip.

“You think I’d lie about that?”

Ian shook his head, “No.”

Mickey shrugged, “Well. I’m not lying.”

“I love you,” Ian said back, a wide smile spreading slow on his face.

Mickey’s whole body went warm. “We good now?”

Ian nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, we’re good.”

“Good. Now hand me the soap.”

 

* * *

 

His whole body was still humming with endorphins when he and Mickey got out of the shower. Ian wanted Mickey, wanted him so bad that his body trembled when he hovered over the brunette, spreading out on Mickey’s bed. 

They kissed long and slow. Mickey moved and turned them until Ian sat against the headboard and Mickey straddled his lap, moving against him, both of them painfully keyed up and hard. Ian held onto Mickey’s hips, then grabbed at that ass he had and scratched up his back. Mickey teased and stroked him with those tattooed hands, dropping these quiet little words in Ian’s ear, encouraging filthy words.

Mickey was so responsive, like he always was. He was so comfortable with Ian that it made Ian feel like he was falling apart. He just loved Mickey so fucking much that it kind of scared him. He didn't really think he loved anyone before Mickey (not including his family, that was different, obviously). 

It was like, and Mickey would hound his ass for _days_ if he found this out, his whole life was so fucking flat. He’d never had a boring life, but outside of his family, things were just… there. But then this guy happened. And everything got tilted and twisted. And it was so good.

Mickey got himself ready while he handed Ian a condom. Ian watched, his mouth watering as Mickey kept his eyes locked on his, his hand reaching behind him, drawing out these tortured sounds from his throat. The brunette’s mouth dropped open a little. Ian kissed him, biting at his lip and tasting the inside of his mouth until Mickey shifted and let him know that they were good to go.

There was something really fucking hot about Mickey riding him. Mickey got so focused while he sunk down onto Ian. And he felt so good, took him so well Ian couldn't help but tell Mickey how good he took it. Mickey grunted and was breathing hard. Ian held onto him until he was bottomed out. Both of them gasped and just stilled for a minute.

“You good?” Ian panted. 

Mickey nodded, moving his hips, “Fuck yeah.”

Ian grinned, wrappinghis arms around Mickey’s waist. Mickey held onto the headboard and kept moving. Ian moved with him. They moved together so well and Ian was so fucking fascinated by it. They didn't have to question it, didn't have to say a damn word. 

Mickey set the pace, rolling his hips and pushing hard. Rising and sinking until his legs shook and his cheat heaved deeply with every breath, telling Ian the he was close. Ian was close too. Mickey looked so good on him like that. His arms caging Ian in, lips parted, these fucking noises he made, whines and grunts and moans.

Ian gripped Mickey’s hips hard, probably bruising him. Mickey liked that, when Ian bruised him. He never said it, but Ian’s caught him staring at the bruises, brushing his fingers over them, grinning at them. It was kind of really fucking hot.

“Look so good like this,” Ian panted, reaching between them to start stroking Mickey all slow and deliberate. “You gonna come for me?”

Mickey nodded almost violently, “Yeah —yeah.”

Eyes rolling back, Ian felt Mickey’s lips and teeth on his throat. Mickey rode him harder, sending these jolts of electricity through his whole body. Ian bucked up into Mickey, focusing on the sound of Mickey’s breath coming out all raspy. 

He knew he hit the right spot with Mickey let out this unnatural sounding, “Fuck!”

They didn't last much longer. Ian waited until Mickey came, like he always tried to do. He really loved watching him like that, watching him fall apart. It never failed to send him over the edge. They were left sweaty and heaving breaths and buzzing all over.

Mickey shakily climbed off of Ian’s lap and reached for a damp washcloth that he brought with them from the shower. Ian hadn't even noticed, but he was glad because getting out of bed after Mickey riding him was like… not happening. The brunette cleaned them up and they laid together for a while, smoking and taking in the silence. 

Ian loved Mickey. Mickey loved Ian. And it was so good.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh. Man. They finally said it. :)


End file.
